


Off the Mark

by coreopsis



Category: Da Vinci's Inquest
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-30
Updated: 2000-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreopsis/pseuds/coreopsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little slice of Bobby's workday.   This can stand alone but takes place before Lost Horizons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off the Mark

I knew he was going to run. You can usually see it in their eyes when they're getting ready to jackrabbit. I told him to put down the knife and let the girl go, and he did it, but his eyes went wide and wild. And he was off, with me right after him, because I knew he was going to run.

Now the moron is dead because he ran out into traffic, and I'm standing here with Mick Leary and Leo Shannon, explaining what happened for the third or fourth time. I had the good sense to stop at the curb and I did yell at him repeatedly to stop, so it's not my fault the idiot didn't watch where he was going. I refuse to feel guilty over this.

Okay, maybe a little guilty. If I'd been faster, I could have caught him before we got to the street. I know that, and I'm sorry for it.

If he'd held onto the knife, I could have shot him. That really would have given the homicide detectives something to investigate. But I don't want that on my conscience too. Haven't had to shoot anybody yet, and I'd just as soon keep it that way.

"Hey Bobby." Dominic Da Vinci... I should have known he'd show up eventually. Sometimes he seems to be everywhere at once.

"Dominic." Give him a little nod to show that I'm okay.

"What happened here? Are you all right?" He's giving me that compassionate head tilt thing he does and putting a warm hand on my shoulder. I don't need his sympathy, but I'm going to take it anyway. Can't hurt.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What'd you hear?" In other words, what are the other cops saying about me? Are they blaming me for this idiot's fatal mistake?

"I didn't hear anything. Just saw you guys over here as I was passing by on my way back to the office. What happened?" Compassion, determination, and curiosity all rolled into one. You never stop being a cop, do you, Dominic? No matter what it says on your office door, you're still a cop at heart.

I give him the rundown in impersonal cop talk. It's easy, familiar, and I don't have to think about it. It takes only a minute to describe the end of a person's life. Seems like it should be more, doesn't it? But it's a relatively simple sequence of events-- the suspect did this, I did that, he did that, and then a truck came along and broke him in half with a sickening thump. End of story.

So why are my hands still shaking? Maybe I need a cigarette. But when I go to reach into my pocket, I notice there's one already burning between my fingers. Huh. When did I light that?

The smoke goes into my lungs more acrid than usual, and I can't help but think that I might have caught the guy if I'd quit these things a long time ago. Or maybe not. It might have just been his day to die, and nothing I did or didn't do was going to change it. Could have been that even if I'd been on the other side of town, he'd have still walked out in front of that truck. He might have had the girl with him and they'd both be dead...

I need to stop thinking like that or I'll convince myself this was a good thing that happened, that my intervention saved the girl's life and not just her virtue. I'm not ready to feel good about anything yet...maybe tomorrow, or next week, but not today.

Leary and Shannon have drifted away to confer with the uniforms who interviewed the witnesses. Plenty of witnesses on a busy street corner in the middle of the day. Plenty of people who saw exactly what happened, but who knows what kind of stories they'll be telling? What they saw, what they think they saw, and what they think they should have seen will all blend together and be sifted through the filter of their opinions and past experiences with the police. I can only hope that Shannon and Leary and the rest will be able to find the little nuggets of truth in all that sludge. They're good cops. They can do it.

Dominic is talking to the young guy from his office--can't remember his name or if I ever heard it in the first place-- but he's looking at me. Dominic's watching me like he thinks I'm gonna jackrabbit, and I have to say the thought is appealing. I'd sure like to be some place else--anywhere else. I wanna be somewhere away from all the staring, chattering people and the staticky cough of police radios and the flashing lights of the cop cars and the ambulance. But I'm stuck right here until somebody tells me differently.

Here comes Dominic back to my side. He's asking me something but I don't hear a word because my sergeant is walking up behind him and he's wearing the exact same "What did you do this time boy?" expression my dad used to get when I was in trouble. Sergeant Phillips is a good boss, but I hate the way he makes me feel like I'm ten years old sometimes. It's that paternal nature of his, I guess, but it's a damned irritating feeling when you're pushing forty.

"What's the story here, Marlow? I've heard their side." He nods toward the detectives and the uniforms. "Now I want to hear yours."

And I give it to him, clearly and concisely, just like I gave it to Da Vinci and Shannon and everyone else. He doesn't stop me or ask any questions and when I'm done, he tells me to go back to the squad and get started on the paperwork. I'm clear as far as he's concerned.

Well. Sounds pretty simple when he says it, but I'm not sure it is. Step back a few feet, Dominic follows. My car's on the next street, and I start walking in that direction. Dominic keeps pace, but doesn't say anything. I've got nothing to say either so I guess we'll just walk in silence. Until it occurs to me...

"Where you going?" My question seems to catch him off guard. Why? Is it the unnatural harshness of my voice or did he not expect me to wonder why he was with me? Am I supposed to already know? Well, too bad, because I don't.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Dominic says the words mildly as if commenting on the weather instead of my mental state.

"I told you I was fine." Didn't I say that? I think I did. I need another cigarette. The package is nearly empty. Need to pick up some more on the way home. Probably need some beer too, and food. Can't remember the last time I went to the store... couldn't have been too long ago. Been pretty busy, but I don't think it's been more than a week or so.

"Bobby..." Dominic says my name as if it's supposed to mean more than that, but I'm not getting it right now. What the hell does he want from me?

"I don't *want* anything, Bobby. I'm just a little worried about you. That's all."

"Did I say that out loud?" I try to smile, but it doesn't feel right and doesn't quite form and I really don't care. He nods and smiles for me. It seems more natural somehow, even though he's got nothing to smile about either. Well, no reason that I can see anyway.

I just changed my mind. I won't take his sympathy after all. I don't need it and I don't want it and damn him anyway for trying to give it to me. Sure, he's a great listener and a good friend, but I don't want to talk about it just yet. "Look, Dominic, I don't need a babysitter to walk me to my car. I'm fine. It's just another day in the life, right? I'm fine." Yeah, and if I keep saying it, maybe one of us will believe it.

Well, *that* stopped him in his tracks, didn't it? Whether he believes it is anybody's guess. His expression gives nothing away. "Okay, but if you need anything..."

"I know." I try to smile again and this time I almost make it. Watching him walk away like that...is kind of pathetic. I have work to do. Real, actual police work piled on my desk that's not going to get done while I stand on the street and...what? What am I doing?

Trying to figure out when I'll be settled enough to take him up on his offer. When I can accept his sympathy without choking on it. When I can say that I'm fine and mean it. When will that be? I don't know. All these events--these traumas both major and minor--all take their own time to get over and it's hard to predict...

All I can be sure of is that I knew he was going to run and I should have been able to stop him. Should have been quicker off the mark.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Nicole, Melissa, and Shug--Thanks & hugs ladies, you rock! Any remaining mistakes are all mine.


End file.
